


not quite a club

by paperclipbitch



Series: femslash100 drabbles [35]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Alcohol, Community: femslash100, F/F, Threesome - F/F/F, everyone is clint barton's ex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-14 22:44:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4582923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperclipbitch/pseuds/paperclipbitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Drinking with the Black Widow,” Bobbi sighs, shaking her head and pulling out her hair, “you’d think we’d have learned better by now.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	not quite a club

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt #471: _sticky_ at **femslash100**. In my head, this is set after issue #13 of the Fraction _Hawkeye_ run, but tbh it'll fit anywhere.

Clint Barton’s sticky situations are not like other people’s sticky situations.

Technically Avengers Tower is a place for truth and justice and really cool weaponry and all that shit, but Tony Stark’s always been heavily involved, so there’s alcohol _everywhere_. Natasha brandishes the vodka, and Jess laughs, shifts her sore shoulders, and goes to find some glasses.

“Drinking with the Black Widow,” Bobbi sighs, shaking her head and pulling out her hair, “you’d think we’d have learned better by now.”

When Natasha grins, her teeth are very white.

They’re all tied together by espionage and being superheroes and being _female_ superheroes in a world that’s still pretty keen on objectification, and yet it’s always about a goddamn _boy_ , every last chickflick cliché. 

“You think Clint will get us a brunette next?” Jess asks, later, boots kicked off, feet in Bobbi’s lap. This is vaguely inadvisable, but no more inadvisable than anything else she’s done this week, this month.

Natasha laughs, sharp and bright; she’s bruised and her hair could probably use a wash, and Jess could use some sleep, and Bobbi’s mouth twists, looking at the two of them. They have their own separate friendships, separate lives, but this one thing gums them together, refuses to let go.

Jess’ mouth on Natasha’s is another inevitability, nothing new, just another tangle as coiled as Bobbi’s hand too high on her thigh to be innocent, to be written off.

They do this, like they’ll always patch Clint up; how can they not?


End file.
